


Stiles' Inner Demon

by dereksexstilesgood (zaniamsextoy)



Series: Demon [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 04:30:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaniamsextoy/pseuds/dereksexstilesgood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I watched you for nights and all you and that voice talked about was you loving me,” Derek said. “Why are you in love with me? I’m overbearing, hurtful, angry all the time . . . what attracts you to me? The better we find what it is, the faster I can change it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this like a year ago and posted it on Tumblr(but deleted the Tumblr). Decided to post it back up here in commencement of the season of Teen Wolf. I hope you guys enjoy! <3

The bedroom was pitch black. The velvet curtains were drawn over the window that would have let in a stream of moonlight but the light was just a cold reminder of happiness, and that was the last emotion the boy lying in bed felt. The television had been shut off and the only noise came from the sobbing of a young boy, curled in his bed, fighting to put the little voice in his head at ease. 

“You’re a loser!” the demonic voice echoed. “You’re a piece of shit, that’s why your mother died. She could smell the failure on you and got out quick before she was stuck. Why do you think Derek hates you?” the demon antagonized. “It’s because you’re worthless and ugly. Who wants a scrawny little twig like you? You can’t even get Lydia and she’s a dope!”

“Shut up!” Stiles bellowed out in tears.

The inner voice in his head had been haunting him for as long as he could remember. Maybe it all started when his mother passed away. That was the darkest time for him. His father was always working at the station, and all he had was his conscience to keep him company.

But even so, his once and only friend had made a dreadful turn for the worst. Of course he had Scott, but even Scott wouldn’t understand the complexity that was Stiles. He was more than the sarcastic, funny boy everyone knew him as. Stiles was actually pretty bashful and a mute when it came to expressing his inner emotions. 

Stiles was depressed more than ever. He covered his ears with his pillow which was a waste of time. The voice was in his head, and in no way was it disappearing now. Stiles was at his lowest, and the demon fed on the boy’s unhappiness. 

The night was dying but the voice was more alive than ever. It had been taunting and hurting Stiles, and Stiles had no choice but to endure it. He even agreed that he would never end up with Derek, for who could ever love a beast like him? Stiles spent another restless night fighting with his demon, and before he knew it, his alarm clock rang on the nightstand and he turned it off with a bang. To his dismay, it was Saturday and he had the entire day alone. Scott was still drooling over Allison, and his father was sure to be working another long shift at the station. Stiles slammed back into his bed, his eyes still red from the night before. 

“You don’t even have a life!” the demon continued. “Boohoo, my name is Stiles Stilinski and I’m all alone. Boohoo!”

“Shut the fuck up . . . shit!” he yelled, fed up. “Leave me alone already.”

“I’m never going to leave you alone,” the demon laughed. 

Restless and distraught, Stiles thought if he opened the window that the demon would disappear from the sunlight. A strong sunshine lit up the corners of his room, revealing his queen sized bed, his desk filled with late homework, his computer and school bag, and his dresser with a television centered in the middle. 

“Still here.” 

Stiles punched the wall, tiredly resting his forehead against it. He was tired, irritated and getting more depressed after each remark coming every other second for almost the entire day. Stiles couldn’t take it anymore, he took a hot shower lasting almost an hour, dressed in a loose plaid, buttoned shirt, showing the bare of his chest, a pair of ripped jeans and he jumped into his jeep, heading anywhere into the unknown. 

The sky was muggy and gray. There was a light drizzle in the air, and Stiles drove out of the neighborhood, onto a long stretch of road that he had no idea where it led to. Stiles turned on the radio at full blast, drowning out the evil chuckles and rants inside of his head. The road turned into a rocky trail, and although it was inevitable to admit to himself, his destination was always on his mind. Behind two corner trees, a broken down house appeared and when Stiles realized that he had stumbled across the Hale house, he slammed on the brakes and put the jeep in reverse. 

“What are you doing here?” a voice appeared out of thin air; although it was a shame to admit, Stiles knew exactly who the voice belonged to. A deep enthralling voice, one he heard continuously in his dreams . . . Well, when he was able to sleep. 

Stiles peered towards the house but jumped when he realized that Derek was standing beside him, staring intently into his jeep. Derek was covered in a sheet of sweat, his thin shirt sticking to his body like an extra layer of skin. Stiles couldn’t help but whimper under his breath. He tried to make it as softly as he could with Derek having wolf hearing and all, but when Derek tilted his head and looked at Stiles with a petulant expression, he must have heard. 

“Stiles,” he said, hard, “what are you doing here?”

Blushing, he looked back at the Hale house, scared to show Derek the sudden change in his face that started off a snowy white into a rosy pink. Stiles avoided Derek’s strong gaze and contemplated his answer, but it always got mixed up with the words of his demon. 

“Tell him,” the demonic voice said. “Tell him what you want from him . . . what you want him to do to you. Tell him! Tell him you pathetic coward.”

The demon laughed. 

“Watch as he looks at you repulsed and automatically says no. Who would say yes? You are ugly, worthless.”

Stiles slumped his head down, ashamed. Even if he wanted to disagree with everything the demon was saying, there was some truth. Who could ever love him? He had never had a girlfriend . . . or a boyfriend. He was unattractive to both sexes and the thought made him even more depressed. 

“Who is it that?” Derek asked suddenly. “Is Scott with you?” 

Derek leaned inside, his face an inch away from Stiles. Stiles froze at the closeness and could smell Derek’s scent that made it want to whimper again. Derek’s face grew confused, and he looked into Stiles’ light brown eyes. 

“I swore someone else was just talking.”

“No one was talking, Derek.” Other than his demon . . . Wait, could Derek here his conscience thinking? Stiles blush grew into a murky white. He was completely embarrassed, and turned on his car before the demon had the chance to confess Stiles’ feelings for Derek. 

“I gotta go,” Stiles rushed, reversing his jeep backwards, almost beheading Derek during the process. Derek moved away just in time, and stood completely still. His face was confused more than ever. 

Stiles reversed all the way back until hitting the road and making a swift U-turn back home. He hadn’t eaten anything all day and stopped through a drive thru burger joint and ordered a double cheeseburger, fries and a large coke. 

Stiles parked in the driveway, and took his horde of food back to his room and slammed the door, keeping the lights off and heading straight for his bed. Stiles clicked on the television to Adventure Time and laid out his food in front of him. Halfway into his burger, he called Scott but again, there was no answer. 

“You’re going to die alone,” the demon ranted; Stiles tried to ignore the voice by turning up the volume louder. “No one to love poor, ugly Stiles.”

“Just shut up already! Please,” he begged. 

“Beg like a little bitch,” it went on. “Beg like the little bitch you are.”

“Please?” Stiles voice strained. “Please just leave me alone.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay?” a velvet voice appeared, making Stiles jump in his seat. Stiles searched around his room and he noticed that his window was open, and standing in the darkest corner of the room, Derek’s pale face appeared with strong, red like eyes. 

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asked, his throat suddenly dry. 

“Ah --- that seems to be on both of our minds.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Debating whether to post up the entire story . . . I think I will.

Derek sundered out of the darkness and into a stream of moonlight coming in from the bedroom window. He chuckled underneath his breath when he glanced to the cartoon characters on screen before turning to a completely stiff Stiles.

Stiles' eyes were wide and there was no mistake that he was sweating.

Derek walked over to the light switch, turned it on and sent a bright white light cascading the bedroom. 

Stiles couldn’t believe Derek was in his bedroom. Of course he had imagined Derek in his bedroom, in his dreams but he never thought it was ever going to happen. Derek walked back to front of the bed cooly; it almost seemed like he didn’t belong there. Like he was too perfect to be in such an ordinary environment.

Stiles watched as Derek evaluated his room with an appraising eye. He chuckled at the Playboy posters above his bed that made Stiles very uncomfortable. The women on the ceiling were a hundred times beautiful than he was. Derek could have any girl . . . or guy, if that’s what he wanted.

Why would he want Stiles?

There was silence as Derek walked around the room, touching Stiles' things which would have pissed Stiles off, but he was actually intrigued of Derek’s undying curiosity.

Derek came across a framed picture on top of the night stand next to Stiles’ lamp, and Stiles’ stomach turned in knots. It was a picture of him, his father and of his mother. Stiles had her brown eyes and high cheekbones. As for his lanky built, that was from his father, although his father had more muscles on him for years of work on the police force. 

Stiles pushed away his food to the edge of the bed and played with his fingers, unsure on what to say to Derek. The setting was too intimate for him and he so desperately wanted to be more in his element. Maybe if Scott were here?

“So---who’s the one that’s going to crack first?” Derek finally broke the silence. He had found a place against the wall, leaning on it with his legs and arms crossed. The intensity in Derek’s eyes were so strong that Stiles couldn’t look at him without wanting to break down. 

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Stiles replied. 

“Why did you come by my home?” he said hard, controlled. “You come with no invitation and then when you see me, almost behead me and leave like you'd seen a werewolf!”

Derek chuckled at his remark, his red eyes, slowly turning back into a dull green. 

“Oh---,” Stiles went through his mind, coming back across the demon but ignored him to answer Derek with, “I didn’t know I was at your house.”

“You didn’t know you were at my house?” Derek said slowly, almost processing what Stiles had just said. “First of all, you parked right in front of the yard, second, you saw me and third, you were talking to me!” he rose his voice. “Were you sleep walking or whatever? And who was the other voice?Come on Stiles, what’s going on?”

“What’s going on is that he loves you,” the demon voice appeared. 

_“What?”_

Derek’s brows curved over his eyes, and his sharp teeth stuck out of his full, pink lips that Stiles so desperately wanted to kiss. Stiles bit on his lower lip, leaving Derek unanswered. 

“I know I have killer hearing and all but who’s speaking? I don’t understand!”

“You’re just crazy,” Stiles eventually said. “Now, can you leave so I can get some rest? I have school tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday moron,” Derek gritted his teeth. “What’s going on? Who’s speaking to me?”

“Me,” the demon said in Stiles' head, that apparently Derek could hear.

Derek's red eyes reappeared and his face scrunched into a werewolf.

“Who are you!” Derek growled, irritated. 

“My name is Stiles Stilinski,” said the demon.

Derek glared at Stiles who had not spoken for awhile. Derek knew that he wasn’t talking to Stiles, but if not the only other body in the room, then who?

“My name is Derek Hale,” the demon antagonized. “I’m a murdering werewolf that feed on the weak and eat them until my stomach is satisfied.” 

This pushed Derek over the edge; he ripped into a full werewolf form and caused Stiles to cower back near the headboard, clutching a pillow.

Derek crept towards Stiles, his huge, sharp teeth gleaming in the light. His red eyes were strong and like blood. Derek hovered above Stiles, covering him in shadows. 

“If you or that voice doesn’t answer me, I’m going to rip out your throat.” Derek threatened, breathing heavily through his snout. 

Stiles could barely breathe, let alone come up with plausible words that weren’t whimpering and gasps. 

“It’s my,” he stuttered.

“My what?” Derek growled, showing more teeth. 

“My name is Derek Hale and I’m a worthless piece of shit of a werewolf that should just crawl into a corner and die.”

The demon pushed its limit. 

Derek grabbed Stiles by the throat, carrying him up the wall until Stiles was face to face with Derek's red eyes. Stiles’ heart beated rapidly and Derek’s claws dug into his skin.

Stiles stared into Derek’s red pupils, evoking undeniable terror so Derek would let him go. 

“Derek,” Stiles choked out. “Put me down.” Derek’s claws dug into the back of Stiles’ neck. 

“Answer me first,” he growled. “My hand isn’t covering your entire breathing pipe so you have about a minute before you pass out. Who’s the other voice?”

“Derek---,” Stiles choked, “I can’t.”

“Tell me now or I swear to god I’ll have you unconscious.”

The insomnia, the demon, Derek’s claw clasped around his throat . . . The only thing Stiles could do and wanted to do was cry.

So he did.

Stiles sobbed in Derek’s grasp, his tears falling onto Derek’s paw. 

“Stiles just answer the question. I can already feel your heart beating slower, you’re going to pass out soon.”

“Then let me pass out,” Stiles answered. “Maybe you should choke me harder so I just end up dying.”

Suddenly, Derek’s grasp loosened, bringing Stiles’ feet back to the floor.

Stiles stood against the wall, catching his breath. When his breathing returned to normal, he looked into Derek’s red werewolf eyes and stood up stiffly as he had been shot by a freeze ray. 

The black werewolf backed up against the bedroom window, staring into Stiles’ eyes.

Derek whined and disappeared into the night.

But before he was fully gone, Stiles couldn’t help but notice a single tear drop from Derek’s red eyes. There was no mistake that it was a tear because there was a single, dark spot that Stiles couldn’t help but crouch over. He looked at the stain and then out the window for Derek, who was already out of sight. 

“Your ugliness scared him away,” the demon voice reappeared. “That or your stink burger breath.”

Stiles covered his mouth with his hand and breathed out. It wasn’t stink, it smelt like Coke but maybe Derek’s werewolf senses could smell the burger he had swallowed due to his depression. 

“No---,” Stiles disagreed. “Derek . . . cried for me.”


	3. Chapter 3

Even if there was a demon voice keeping Stiles up throughout the weekend, Derek's abrupt leave caused the same effect. Stiles was confused and irritated more than ever. Was it a tear or a possible dribble of drool that fell from Derek’s face?

It had to be a tear, it just had to be. 

“You wish he cried for you,” said Stiles' demon. 

Stiles had just gotten out of the shower, wiping the steam from the bathroom mirror. His head must have been playing tricks on him because it seemed his reflection was speaking directly to him.

But it was his demon that he once knew as his imaginary friend.

Now, it seemed to be his only enemy.

Stiles looked at his bare chest in the mirror, wishing he was more of a looker. Maybe if he had more muscle mass and hair, Derek would like him?

But all he had was a slim torso with a small path of hair leading to a happy spot covered by his white towel.

Stiles brushed his teeth, rinsed with spearmint mouthwash and went to his bedroom across the hall to get ready for school. 

Stiles had an array of loose plaid shirts hanging one by one on hangers and regular tees neatly piled up in one corner of the closet. He shed his towel, going full commando and picking out his attire for the day: a gray shirt with a catchy phrase saying, “Who am I?” and below was a blank line, with a brown plaid shirt he kept unbuttoned and a pair of ripped jeans. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and again his reflection spoke back to him.

It must have been the insomnia that was driving him crazy.

“Why even bother? It’s not like anyone will be impressed by you. You’re nothing but a prop to Scott. You’re just the stupid, goofy friend that doesn’t get the girl or guy in the movie. All you get is a place in their shadow.”

“Not true---,” Stiles said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. His voice cracked under the pressure and Stiles couldn’t help but agree with the inner demon. 

Who am I, he thought. No one. Absolutely no one. 

Stiles packed up his books and unfinished homework from his desk, throwing them into his backpack and shutting the light switch behind him.

When he got to the kitchen, the coffee maker was half empty, there was a half eaten bagel smothered in cream cheese and a note on the kitchen table. 

_Stiles,_

_It seems like I haven’t spoken or seen you in awhile. I’m going to make it my duty to come home early tonight and whip us some steak and potatoes for dinner. If all else goes wrong, I’ll just call your cell for the heads up. By the way, I could hear you talking in your sleep(he was talking, but he wasn’t asleep. He had been up all night trying to get the little voice in his head to go away). Maybe I’ll stop by the pharmacy for some cough syrup that’ll knock you out cold._

_Have a good day son,_

_Dad._

Stiles placed the note back on the table, grabbed a banana from the ice box, peeling it open as he walked for the jeep. The sun was almost out of hiding and the trees in the front yard rustled together.

Stiles clicked off the alarm when he noticed a pair of red eyes, disguised behind a bush a few yards away. A quivering fear ran up his spine but it all disappeared when he put a name to the pair of eyes.

It was Derek checking up on him. 

Before Stiles could wave, the eyes were gone. Maybe he was just seeing things, again?

Stiles adjusted the mirrors of the car before driving to school. When he arrived, he walked to his Chemistry class where he met up with an infatuated Scott. 

All Scott could talk about was his date with Allison and how she wore her hair, her perfume, the way her nose crinkled when she laughed. Stiles ignored every word and paid more attention to his unfinished homework. 

“Hey man, do you have the answers to last week’s assignment?” Stiles asked, glancing to Scott for the first time, who was busy eye-humping Allison in the front row. Scott hadn’t answered when Stiles said, “or just go on ogling your girlfriend,” he sighed. 

Stiles guessed most of the answers and turned in his sheets. The entire school day mapped out the same and Stiles was jumping into his jeep, about to head for home when Scott asked him for a ride.

“Where’s Allison?” Stiles asked, spitefully. 

“Her father picked her up earlier. Do you mind giving me a ride home?” Scott asked, already opening the door and jumping inside. He sniffed around and looked at Stiles, disgusted. 

“Why do you smell like Derek?” Scott’s eyes furrowed together. 

“He was over my house the other night,” Stiles answered cooly, not giving away any information.

Before Scott could notice, Stiles hid the claw imprint around his neck that had began to bruise into a hard pink, with small purple dots where Derek’s nails had punctured. Sure they hurt, but not as much as everyone expected them to by the way it looked. 

“Oh, but---.”

“He was looking for you,” Stiles lied easily. “He came by my place, saw that you weren’t there and probably headed to your house but you were Allison that night like you said. 

“Uh---yeah, you’re right. Cool.” 

Stiles took a huge breath of air and exhaled deeply. He grew to be a better liar than he had anticipated.

Stiles drove Scott home, listening to him bicker more about Allison and her cute quirks. They shared a firm handshake and Scott was out of sight before Stiles pulled back onto the road and towards home. 

The streetlights turned on and the blue sky was turning shades of gray. The clouds were transparent, through them a few stars peeked out to say hello. Paying attention to the road and looking up at the starry sky, Stiles was in no immediate danger until the sound of a blaring horn tore into the street. 

Stiles passed a stop sign and was hit by a Ford truck at the rear.

The car swirled around the street, his air bag inflating and his head suffering a major blow against it.

Stiles’ vision grew blurry, and he could feel a clean gash on the side of his left temple. He could feel his heart growing slower, and his head sink onto the air bag like a fluffy cushion. 

The sirens in the background were faint and so was the sound of someone trying to break the jeep door open. They accomplished it because suddenly a gust of wind filled the jeep. 

A pair of firm hands reached across of Stiles and unbuckled the seatbelt, tugging it off of him in one swift move. 

“You dead, man?” his demon asked, jokingly. “Tell me you're dead.”

Stiles shook his head but could feel nothing but a numbing sensation all over his body. This must be the part where one was close to dying because Stiles could see a light, but it wasn’t white. The light was red, and there were two, like he could choose either heaven or hell. 

Stiles could feel his head being placed against a hard surface, arms wrapped around his body, almost cradling him like an infant. He looked up from the tight gray shirt and peered into the pathways leading to heaven or hell. 

But all he could hear before blacking out was a pained and loud growl. 


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles was stuck between heaven and hell.

He wanted heaven but though that he deserved to go to hell.

After all, he already had a demon in his head. Stiles knew this wasn’t real but neither was it fake, just like heaven and hell, he was yet again, stuck in the middle, almost like an impasse.

Stiles was in a room, half white, the other black. He was torn straight in the middle, unsure on where to go.

On one hand, the white side---heaven was his mother.

Stiles smiled as she materialized out of thin air. She was more beautiful than he could remember. Not only was she sending off a glorious glow, her age lines had smoothed and the scratches on her face from the accident were gone.

But on the black side, hell, was Derek in his wolf form, staring at him with tempting, sensual red eyes. He was torn between his mother and Derek; he didn’t no who to choose so Stiles took a seat where he was standing and closed his eyes. 

 ---------------------

The anonymous caller on the other line informed the officer of a collision in the neighborhood involving a Ford truck and a dark colored jeep. After Officer Stilinski got the memo he immediately called his son, Stiles. 

There was no answer. 

Officer Stilinski called once again and grew irritable when his son didn’t answer his phone. He tried not to think of the jeep being Stiles but as he called his son for over ten minutes, the anxiety was slowly eating him away. He grabbed his keys for the cruiser and rushed to the accident.

Officer Stilinski drove way above the speed limit until coming across flashing blue and red lights, a smashed Ford truck and an empty jeep he knew to be Stiles. He slammed on the brakes and ran for the jeep in hysteria. 

“Where is he?” he bellowed. “Where’s my son? Where’s Stiles?”

The EMT’s shook their heads as if they had lost him and Officer Stilinski pushed his way through them and found a gurney, covered in a white sheet. Immediately, the officer screamed, tears falling down from his face. 

“That’s my son!” he cried. “That’s my son!”

“We’re sorry but we he died on impact. He was gone before we showed up.”

Officer Stilinski dropped to his knees, his hands covering up his face. He lost Stiles. He had broken the promise to his wife to never let anything happen to their son. What was he going to do? How was he going to be able to live without Stiles? The one thing in his life that was constant and safe. 

Officer Stilinski cried for what felt like hours until he wanted to see his son’s face. The shorter EMT nodded his head and reached across the gurney, lifting the seat off of the body. Officer Stilinski stood up, weakly and looked at the corpse that was white as a sheet. His crying had stopped and he quickly looked back to the jeep and then back to the dead body. 

“This isn’t my son,” said Officer Stilinski. “Where the hell is my son?”

 ---------------------

Stiles was still at an impasse, stuck between the light and dark room his mind had taken him to when he died. His mother was in a beautiful white dress with a white halo floating around her head and Derek had shape shifted out of his werewolf form and into the hottest, brooding man he grew to love. He still had no idea where to go: his mother or his love? This was tearing him apart. Why couldn’t he just have both of them in his life? 

“Because you deserve neither of them,” the same, demonic voice appeared.

“Yes I do.” Stiles had grown tired of hearing what he could and couldn’t have. The voice in his head was just that, a voice. It couldn’t hurt him --- well, physically because it did take a toll on him emotionally. 

“I deserve my mother and Derek!” Stiles rose his voice. 

“You don’t!” the voice screamed. 

“I do!” Stiles screamed back. 

“No, you don’t!”

“Yes! I fucking deserve happiness! Leave me alone! Get out of my head!”

And suddenly everything disappeared until Stiles was floating through a tornado or had just fallen down the rabbit’s hole, either one, Stiles was going to an unknown destination with nothing ahead of him but life or death. 

Suddenly, a white light appeared and Stiles had thought that his decision had led him to heaven with his mother. Although he was happy to see her again, there was a pang in his chest that he would never see Derek. 

As his eyes adjusted to heaven, a makeshift of dull walls appeared and Stiles was in a room he had never been in before. He always thought heaven was covered in milk and honey with streets made of silver and gold but when he groggily sat up, he was in a lifeless room, on a very hard bed. 

Stiles rubbed his eyes, making sure that he was seeing heaven for what it was. There was no mistake, heaven wasn’t cracked up as it seemed to be. He was on an uncomfortable bed in an empty room with the shudders all closed, and the air a bit drafty. 

“Hello?” said Stiles, his voice weak and dry. He was thirsty and wished for a glass of water. 

Footsteps echoed and Stiles suddenly looked at the bedroom door.

Derek walked in with a tray of freshly cooked food and a huge cup of iced water.

Stiles was completely baffled.

How did he end up here? 

Stiles scratched his head but screamed from the pain. He looked at his nails and found blood in between them.

Derek growled, placing the tray on a nearby table to aide Stiles. He grabbed the first aid kit from the floor, added more aloe to the open gash on Stiles’ forehead, a piece of gauze to soak up the blood and a wrap that he tightly wrapped around Stiles’ head. All Stiles could do was stare at Derek in amazement. 

Now Stiles was even more certain. This had to be a dream. 

When Derek was finished tending to Stiles’ wounds, he lifted up the boy’s chin to meet his eyes.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Derek growled, his voice hard. 

“I---can I have some water?” Stiles asked, looking at the glass across the room.

Derek rolled his eyes and did what he was asked.

“Thanks,” said Stiles, taking the glass away from Derek and drinking its entire contents in one whole gulp. 

Derek grabbed the glass and had another full one quicker than Stiles could have asked for another. Derek sat on the edge of the bed, trying to read Stiles’ facial expression but all Stiles could think of was how real everything seemed to be.

Was this Derek’s bedroom? Stiles had been in the Hale house numerous amounts of time but never dared to come upstairs. 

“Now, answer me,” Derek spoke finally. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“What do you mean?” asked Stiles. 

“Were you trying to get yourself killed in that car accident or---.”

“Oh.” Though Stiles was depressed, he hadn’t thought about taking things that far, although he had come across the thought multiple times in the past week. “It was an accident,” Stiles’ voice trailed off.

“An accident?” Derek said sarcastically. “You practically asked to die when you passed that stop sign.”

“So what if I did do it subconsciously?” Stiles asked, hotheaded. “It’s not like you care.”

Stiles dropped his head down. He could hear Derek sigh, and Derek grabbed Stiles chin once again, bringing them to look into his green eyes. 

“I do care,” Derek said softly, almost agonizing. “Stiles, I ---”


	5. Chapter 5

Derek stared deep into Stiles’ eyes and once in his life found it hard to breathe.

Stiles looked at Derek longingly, waiting for him to finish talking when a howl tore through the sky and Derek’s sharp teeth stuck out between his lips.

He stood up abruptly and walked to window.

Stiles sat up but was too weak to move. He stared at Derek who opened the shutters, looked outside and rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Stiles heard Derek noisily run down the staircase and the front door slammed open. 

“What the hell are you doing with Stiles?”

Stiles immediately noticed the voice as Scott’s.

“He needs to go to the hospital, Derek. His father called me and I tracked his scent to your house. He needs to go to the emergency now. Move!”

“He’s fine,” Derek growled harshly. “His bones are just bruised and I’ve been treating his head wound for the past two days. Stiles is fine.”

Stiles stomach grumbled and he looked at the tray of food across the room. He stood up again and made it half way when the nausea from his head sent him falling onto the floor with a huge crash.

Stiles could hear hectic running up the stairs and Derek picked him up. Stiles wrapped his arms around his neck and his legs around Derek’s waist. 

“He’s not okay!” Scott complained. “He needs to go to the emergency. My mom is working today and he’ll be in better hands than he is here.”

Derek laid Stiles on the bed but Stiles refused to let his grasp go.

Derek pushed against Stiles’ torso softly, staring intently into the brown eyes. When Stiles saw Derek’s expression, he whimpered and Derek twitched.

Stiles complained when Derek tore away his arms and hands, dragging Scott out of the bedroom and back downstairs. All Stiles could think of was the food on the table. 

“Stiles is fine---.”

“No he’s not!” Scott yelled. 

Derek sighed.

“Fine, after I’m done talking to him, I’ll drive him to the hospital myself.”

“His dad has been looking for him for the past two days. He’s got all the officers on patrol.”

“Lie,” Derek groaned, slamming the front door shut.

Derek appeared back into the room and placed the food tray on Stiles’ lap, sitting on the side of the bed. 

Stiles wasted no time eating the chicken noodle soup that Derek had made. During the process of eating, Derek watched intently as if Stiles was going to disapprove of his cooking. 

“It’s good,” Stiles complimented, easing Derek’s worry. 

“You must just be hungry,” Derek smiled.

Stiles was in shock. He had never seen Derek smile before. It was an amazing sight. Stiles continued to eat and Derek watched intrigued. When he was done, Derek took the tray away and came back with another full bowl. Stiles was still hungry and ate it without saying a word. 

“So---,” Derek broke the silence. He placed the empty tray on the ground and Stiles found the air to be uncomfortable, “did you try and kill yourself?” he asked, with no eye contact. 

“No.” Stiles said hard. “It was an accident.”

“That’s hard to believe when you’ve been moody and talking in your sleep for the past few days.”

“I haven’t been talking in my sleep . . . wait, how do you know I’m talking in my sleep?”

Suddenly Derek blushed, and Stiles thought it was sweet. They both looked away from each other. 

“I’ve been watching to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine . . .” Stiles said with no success.

Derek wasn’t buying it. 

“Something is wrong, Stiles and I want to know what it is.”

“Why?”

At this, Derek grew quiet. 

“Derek?” Stiles said. 

“Why are you in love with me?” Derek asked bluntly.

Stiles immediately grew sweaty and embarrassed. “I could hear you speaking to that---that thing I still don’t understand and you guys were discussing me. You  _love_  me?”

Now it was Stiles who suddenly grew silent.

Stiles thought about how quickly he wanted to disappear and how unlucky he was to not die in the accident. It would have saved him from this awkward moment that was eating his insides like piranhas. 

“I watched you for nights and all you and that voice talked about was you loving me,” Derek said. “Why are you in love with me?” he asked, again. “I’m overbearing, hurtful, angry all the time . . . what attracts you to me? The better we find what it is, the faster I can change it.”

There was an immediate pang to Stiles’ chest.

It was verified.

Even if Stiles was to agree, Derek would want nothing to do with him because he was ugly, just like his demon said all along.

Stiles couldn’t help but look away from Derek to hide his tears that began to fall down. He sniffed and felt Derek put a hand on his shoulder.

Stiles knocked it away. Stiles scooted for the edge of the bed, still avoiding Derek’s gaze and stood up, feeling nauseated immediately. 

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, aggressively. 

“Leaving,” Stiles hid the hurt in his voice. 

“Are you crazy? You won’t even make it through the door!” Derek stood up and blocked Stiles’ path, Stiles still unable to look into Derek’s eyes. 

“Get out of my way, Derek. I don’t care if I’m gonna die if I leave this place, I just want to go!”

Stiles really didn’t know how truly angry he was until that moment. He could feel the anger in his face raise the temperature in his cheeks, neck and chest. The throbbing in his forehead was uncontrollable, as well as the one in his heart. 

Derek pushed Stiles back towards the bed; Stiles using all the strength he had to pull away(which wasn’t much). Derek was so much stronger than Stiles, even out of his werewolf form.

Stiles’ tears fell fluidly and no longer was he hiding the amount of pain he felt. Derek was never going to love Stiles and although Stiles should be happy that he finally got an answer, it was definitely not the answer he so desperately wanted to hear. 

“Let me go!” Stiles cried. “Get out of my way!”

 _“NO!”_  Derek bellowed, his eyes turning red and his teeth sticking out of his mouth.

He was breathing heavily, and his voice echoed throughout the small room like an atomic bomb exploding, leaving Stiles scared and the air more dry.

Derek slammed Stiles against the wall, and Stiles head grew more nauseous. 

Stiles could feel Derek’s breath brush against his face and a growl ripping out of Derek’s chest. Before anyone said anything, Derek relaxed his breathing, but still kept a firm hand on the wall, blocking Stiles from moving. 

“No,” he said softly, but there was a scratchiness in his voice.

Stiles finally looked at Derek’s face and his eyes were closed but the same tears that were on Stiles’ face were on Derek’s.

Slowly, Stiles lifted his hand against Derek’s cheek, and slowly, Derek lifted his head, revealing two hurt, green eyes. 

 _“Stiles---,”_  his voice, sad. “Why do you love me?” 

Derek’s tear filled eyes were so intense for an answer, but Stiles suddenly shied away and took his hand from Derek’s cheek. Wanting an answer, Derek used his free hand to grab Stiles’ chin and bring his brown eyes back to his green. 

“I have to know.”

“Why?”

Stiles didn’t mean to sound harsh.

“You hate the fact that I’m in love with you? You’re repulsed that someone like me” --- he pointed to himself, trying to fight back his tears --- “someone so ugly,” he choked, “and---and completely psychotic loves everything about you that it hurts your rep just knowing that I want to be with you?”

“You’re not ugly,” Derek finally said. “I---I think you’re beautiful.”


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles looked as if he had been hit by a train and ran over multiple times. His brown eyes were slightly red from the crying, but as he wiped his nose with the bottom of his brown plaid shirt, Stiles couldn’t help but stare deeply into Derek’s eyes, who suddenly grew uncomfortable and had to stand up to breathe. 

“I---um,” Derek paced up and down the room that had grown darker.

From the window, Stiles saw that it was getting darker and the moon was covered with fluffy gray clouds. In fact, the entire sky was covered hidden behind the gray mask. Derek bit on his fingernails, and Stiles couldn’t help but think he was the cutest thing he had ever seen. 

“You think I’m beautiful,” Stiles broke the unbearable silence, a grin on the top of his face. No one  ever called him beautiful or handsome, and having heard Derek say that he was good looking was more than a shock of lightning, it was magic.

But as Stiles realized, maybe it concluded even more that this moment was just a dream, and he was still in his jeep at the accident or stuck in a coma . . . Who knew?

At Stiles’ words, Derek flicked his head in the direction of the bed, biting his nails and continuing his anxious pace around the room, keeping the anticipating Stiles waiting for an answer. Derek paced up and down the room for what seemed like days.

Stiles scooted for the edge of the bed. 

“Don’t even think about it,” said Derek, stopping suddenly, but then doing his usual runs. “You’re still a bit woozy and you shouldn’t be on your feet for a while. I’ll make you more food.”

But Stiles wasn’t hungry, he was just anxiously awaiting for an answer. 

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re just delusional,” said Derek, which made him chuckle. 

“Well, if I’m delusional.”

Stiles stripped off his plaid shirt and threw it across the room.

This got Derek’s attention quickly and he froze when the shirt had fallen inches away from his feet.

Derek looked at it, and then back at Stiles who laid across the bed, leaning backwards on his arms with a gaze that made Derek growl. But not an angry growl. A frustrated growl. A prowling growl that was watching his prey and inches before finally pouncing. 

“Then what ever happens tonight, I won’t remember. Ever.”

Stiles took off his gray shirt and threw it to Derek. Stiles’ chest was bare and his soft skin gleamed from the dim lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Stiles was fully aware of what he was doing and how much was at stake.

What if Derek refused---was repulsed by the sight of seeing Stiles’ almost nude? What if Stiles’ couldn’t handle the pressure of Derek’s beastly hands, teeth, lips, chest, his---. The thought of seeing Derek with nothing on but a smile made Stiles gulp and again.

Derek grined as if he had heard what he was thinking.

It was a good thing his demon was out of his head --- well, for now at least. Maybe if Stiles had more treatment to his head injury the demon would appear? For the time being, he was happy that Derek couldn’t read his thoughts, but maybe if he did, the process of begging him for sex would move the process faster?

“What are you implying?” Derek said oblivious. 

“I think it’s obvious, don’t you think?

“You’re hot,” Derek asked it as a question that made Stiles chuckle. It had been a while since he heard himself laugh, but when he was with Derek, it just came out naturally. Derek brought out the best side of him. 

“ . . . for you . . .”

“You’re delusional,” he said, again. 

“All the more to take advantage of me now,” Stiles said. Where had this new Stiles come from? He was being a temptress---tempter. And judging by the blood coursing throughout Derek’s entire body, although he had not yet moved from his position for quite some time, Stiles was winning. 

“You would like that wouldn’t you?” Derek smiled. 

“Well, lets see. I’m in your bedroom, for the first time I might add, no one but Scott knows that I’m here, so there won’t be any disturbances for a while, and I’m practically naked on your bed. The picture seems like a fantasy.”

“Besides your delusions, your head injury and me being older than you, which would categorize our love making---” Stiles whimpered at the mention of “love making” and Derek elicited one back, only to be walking up and down the bedroom, again “--- as underage sex and could possibly have me in handcuffs by your  _father_  and in a jail faster than I shed my pants.”

“Then I’ll take um off for you,” Stiles cut in. “To save you some time, of course.”

Stiles felt like he had gotten a boost of courage when Derek said that he was beautiful, and what better time to take advantage of his predicament: he was alone with Derek, in a house where he could scream from the top of his lungs and not be heard by any neighbors. 

“That gash in your head really screwed up your brain,” said Derek. He had taken the farthest wall away from Stiles, and Stiles remembered is being the exact same posture from the night Derek came to visit him some nights ago. 

Stiles tried to stand up but Derek was next to him in a flash to lightly push him back down. This made Stiles smirk, and he grabbed Derek’s shirt and hung onto him, looking right into his eyes, covered by a cover of darkness. 

“What are you doing?” Derek gritted his teeth.

Stiles pulled the hem of Derek’s shirt down, and Derek followed, kneeling in front of Stiles that had grabbed both of his cheeks, bringing their faces so close, their noses touching. 

“Tell me that you don’t want this,” said Stiles, temptingly. Derek’s pink lips were moist, and the prickle of his unshaven face had Stiles whimpering with excitement. 

In Stiles’ grasp, Derek looked into the boy’s eyes for a moment, then looked away, to the window as if he heard something from outside. Stiles grew silent to listen for a noise, but all that came was the rustling leaves and the tiny branches hitting the glass. 

“I don’t,” Derek exhaled finally.

Stiles let go of Derek’s cheeks and grew flustered with mixed emotions: sadness, anger, resentment, hurt. Stiles wanted to punch something, to punch Derek in the face, to die.

At that exact moment. 

“I’m such a---an idiot. Shit!”

Stiles flung himself backwards on the bed, tossing his head around, fighting back the new fresh tears. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

He chuckled, but found nothing funny about prostituting himself for free, to a werewolf that could have hotter tail than he would ever be. But why would Derek call him beautiful if he didn’t mean it? There were small signs: the moments of silence, the small whimpers(but Stiles thought that it might have been of disgust), and punched the air with a tight fist. 

“Get me the fuck out of here!” he shouted, sitting back up.

Derek hadn’t moved, and his face was still covered in shadows.

Stiles couldn’t look at him without wanting to punch his face . . . his perfect, unshaven face that played through his head like pictures in a slideshow. 

“Take me home,” Stiles said darkly. 

Just then, Derek gently pushed Stiles on his back and cradled two legs on either side of Stiles’ torso. 

Stiles felt confused and a sense of blood rush up through his toes up to his head, but when it reached his head, it hurt. He brushed the feeling aside.

Derek stared into Stiles’ eyes with contemplation but sunk lower until their noses were touching again.

“Kiss me,” Stiles breathed out swiftly. 

“You’re gonna thank me for this,” Derek whispered and Stiles felt the tang of anticipation.

Stiles watched as Derek sunk lower, but before he reached his lips, there was a nauseous and painful feeling. Derek was pushing down on his gash, and soon after Stiles passed out from the pain.

 


	7. Chapter 7

It had been an emotional roller coaster for the sheriff. His son was missing and there was no lead but a blotchy blood stain leading into the woods near the accident. Scott had also been on the hunt for Stiles and reassured him that Stiles was going to show up sooner or later, might even by tomorrow. But Officer Stilinski was anxious, he wanted Stiles back and he wanted him back now. The blood in the jeep was a sign that his son was hurt and whoever or whatever took him needed to bring him back home immediately before he really slipped off his rocker. 

There was a buzz coming from his pant pocket, and Officer Stilinski jumped from the sudden movement. He had been in the sitting room, all alone in the dark, thinking of his son constantly. Of course he was furious, but all he wanted was his son back safe and sound. Officer Stilinski answered the call with a man whose hope had been run dry. 

“Hello.”

“Mr. Stilinski,” a woman replied into the receiver. “This is Beacon Hills Hospital, we have your son Stiles Stilinski in one of our emergency rooms. He appeared at our door with a note attached to his shirt with this number and your name. He’s in stable condition, but is on high medication for the gash we had just finished up sewing.”

Officer Stilinski was filled with joy, but his eyes were not agreeing with that emotion. He cried, away from the receiver, happy that his son was finally found. After his moment, he answered the nurse on the other line. 

“I’ll be right in.”

Stiles’ father rushed for his cruiser parked in front of the lawn, and drove like a maniac to the hospital where he met up with the nurse from the phone. She was an intern with long, brown hair and a cute dimple on the left side of her cheek. She led the sobbing officer to the far room of the emergency room, and there Stiles was hooked to an IV line, a heart monitor and a pint of blood that hung against the metal rack. The nurse led him in, then closed the curtain behind her as she left the room. Officer Stilinski took in his son’s condition, and held a hand over his mouth, as to not make loud sobbing noises. He walked to the bedside and placed a hand on Stiles’ cool, soft hand. 

Stiles groaned from the touch, and Officer Stilinski leaned closer to his son’s face. “Stiles? Stiles, my boy, daddy’s here. How are you feeling?” Stiles’ father was a big ball of mess, but he kept his composure as his son opened his eyes and looked around the room like he was being attacked. 

“Where is he?” Stiles shouted, looking around the room, then noticing his father beside him. “Dad . . .”

“Stiles.” They looked into each others eyes, and the officer leaned down and held his son in his arm, a tight hug that made Stiles groan, again. “Sorry,” he apologized. 

“It’s nothing dad, just a few sprained bones. I’m cool.” Stiles looked around the room like he was looking for something. Officer Stilinski analyzed the sewn gash on Stiles’ forehead. 

“Are you feeling alright, son?”

“Peachy.”

“Guess the crash didn’t stem you away from your sarcasm, now did it?” the officer finally smiled, after three days of no lead. 

“Nope.” Stiles looked over the room one last time before drooping back into bed and sighing. 

“What seems to be the problem there bud?”

“Nothing, dad.”

“Something has you beat.” Officer Stilinski stroked his son’s head.

“Just tired, I guess.” But there was indeed something that had Stiles beat. Was being in Derek’s room just a dream? But it seemed so real! Stiles could’ve sworn he smelt like the sour werewolf, but maybe it was the highly induced medication that had him feeling loopy and a little senile. 

“Dad, can I ask you a question?”

Officer Stilinski nodded. 

“How long have I been in here?” Stiles asked. If he was here for more than two days, the dream of Derek was just an unreal fantasy but if it wasn’t then throwing himself at Derek was even more real, and a light blush of pink rose up into his cheeks. 

“The nurse said she found you outside of the emergency today.”

So it wasn’t a dream . . . Stiles still groaned in distress. 

“Is anything hurt, son?”

“Just my pride,” he whispered, reminiscing about the memory of practically throwing himself at Derek, and how Derek slyly sent him into a state of unconsciousness by using his injury against him. How was he ever going to show his face at the Hale house, again? Stiles thought that he was the biggest idiot in the world, and how stupid he was to be so --- so --- so fangirl crazy for Derek!

Officer Stilinski had questioned Stiles of his whereabouts for the past few days and Stiles made a funny remark that he had gotten lost on the way to the hospital, which his father did not laugh at. Officer Stilinski stayed with Stiles until the visiting hours were up and he had to go home. He gave his son a firm kiss on the unaffected side of his forehead and said goodbye. 

After his father left, Stiles couldn’t help but think about Derek. He was finally all alone inside of his head, the demon in his mind had all but disappeared. 

“How stupid could I have been?” Stiles whispered to himself. 

“Very,” a dark voice appeared, but before making any conclusions, the voice wasn’t his demons and it wasn’t his father’s. There in the corner of the room, a hand appeared from inside the curtain and pushed it back, in slipped Derek with a grin on his face. Stiles suddenly grew outraged and threw a pillow at Derek, who had caught it with just a flick of his wrist. He walked into the room cooly, playing as if he didn’t want Stiles at some point when they were alone together inside of his bedroom. 

“I’m about a second close on pushing the nurse’s button,” Stiles threatened, not once leaving Derek’s piercing eyes. Derek just grinned and tossed the pillow in his hands. 

“Looks like they did a better job than I did on your forehead,” said Derek, starting conversation. “Sorry about making you pass out,” he apologized. Although Stiles was very angry, there was a sort of sincerity that Stiles just couldn’t be mad about. 

“Why’d you do it in the first place? To save you or me?”

“I think it’s obvious, don’t you think?” Derek grinned, using Stiles exact words from last night. He threw the pillow back to Stiles, and Stiles placed it behind his back. 

“Nope.” Stiles crossed his arms around his chest. 

Derek sighed. “Fine, it was to save the both of us.” This intrigued Stiles, how were they saving each other . . . from each other?

“Stiles, I’m going to be brutally honest with you . . . Until ---”

“Of course, a catch,” Stiles butted in. “Until?”

“Until you answer me this question: why are you in love with me?” And that was the question on everyone’s mind, and one Stiles hoped Derek would have forgotten. Derek was at Stiles’ side, playing around with the plastic tubes on the machines and pressing buttons that made beeping noises. Stiles didn’t know how to answer --- truthfully, he just didn’t want to. Derek brushed Stiles’ cheek.

Stiles’ heart monitor went haywire; he unplugged it from his chest so the nurse wouldn’t disturb him and to keep Derek from laughing but it was too late. 

“It seems like I’m turning you on,” he grinned. “But that still doesn’t answer my question.”


	8. Chapter 8

Stiles and Derek were alone, again at the hospital, staring fiercely into each others eyes. Derek’s impenetrable gaze was even stronger because right now, Stiles was nervous and a pinch of embarrassed. Derek had asked Stiles, again why he loved him and Stiles found that question hard to answer. Not that he didn’t have an answer, he had many: Stiles appreciated the way Derek took care of himself, the muscles, the hair, especially his flawless, tanned skin but perhaps that was just a few perks for being an alpha. Stiles also loved the intensity that Derek had on him: the strong, appraising look that he found so entrancing, Stiles couldn’t help but make a noise of absolute satisfaction. And Stiles just loved Derek . . .  why did there have to be a reason for loving someone? Couldn’t the answer just be that the two were meant for each other? And that Stiles was Derek’s mate, and Derek was Stiles’ soul mate? Why must there be an explanation? Stiles just loved the sour werewolf, end of the line. End of story. They were just meant for each other. 

The both of them said nothing for a long time, and Derek hid in the bathroom when the brunette nurse came back to check up on Stiles, and to put another IV drip into Stiles’ arm. After she left, the nurse closed the curtain, and the door for the bathroom swung open; Derek took his spot next to Stiles’ bedside once more. 

“You gonna answer me?” Derek said crudely. 

And for once, Stiles moved, only shaking his head side to side. “No . . .”

“Then I’m leaving.” Derek turned on his heels and walked away before Stiles sighed. 

“Wait --- Derek.” Stiles said the werewolf’s name painfully and a little tense. After all, how was he supposed to feel revealing his innermost secrets to the man he loved the most. Stiles didn’t want Derek to leave him . . . He had spent weeks alone(except for the intrusion of his demon. He hated the seclusion. 

Without turning around, Derek said, “What?”

Again, Stiles sighed. “Come back here,” he said gingerly, and Derek looked at him, walking back to the place where had stood. “Derek --- you see, I don’t know how to explain myself . . .”

“Try.” Derek said hard. 

“Derek, I’ve never felt this way before with anyone else but you,” Stiles began with no eye contact. 

Derek scoffed. “What do you make of Lydia? She doesn’t want you and you just move on to me? And if you don’t like me later on in life, you’ll just discard me like I’m disposable and easily replaced.”

Stiles looked into Derek’s eyes, and could see some pain in them. He looked away from the painful sight. 

“Derek, I just want to be with you.” Stiles finally revealed. 

Derek’s expression suddenly turned acidic, and he scoffed. “ ‘I just want to be with you’?!” He laughed. “That’s a bunch of bullshit. Who would want to spend the rest of their life with someone like me?” Derek shook his head. “I don’t share, I enjoy being by myself most of the time and people just piss me off!”

“I do,” Stiles spoke calmly as not to offend him. Derek was breathing more deeper and Stiles just wanted to hold him in his arms. “I want you.”

“Yeah --- for how long? Until you find someone better than me? Someone who you can show off to your father, someone who society thinks is appropriate for you, Stiles I could practically be your uncle, and you my nephew, how wrong would that look?! How horrible do you think I would feel when suddenly one day, out of blue, you decide that you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

“I will never.”

“You say that now, Stiles but who in their right mind would want to spend eternity with me?” Derek asked. 

“I do,” Stiles repeated. Derek had looked away from the boy, fighting back the tears falling from his eyes. He had crossed his hands over his chest, and tried his best not to look back into Stiles’ eyes. 

“Yeah, eternity meaning ‘until I find someone better than you’!”

“Why do you keep on saying that?” Stiles asked confused. That would be something he should be saying, not Derek. The real question was why would Derek want to spend the rest of his life with someone like Stiles?

“Because it’s true!” Derek roared. “I’m not ever going to be Mr. Right. All anyone has thought of me and will think of me will forever be Mr. Right Now. They’ll only want to be with me for the time being, until something better comes along, and there will always be better things out their Stiles. You probably just think of me as a good thing in a bad situation. Well, I got news for you. I will never be good enough for you!” Finally, the tears Derek had been fighting to keep contained finally spilled over and he had to turn around as to not show Stiles his pain. Again, Derek walked away. 

“Wait ---” Stiles called out before Derek pushed back the curtain, I want to give you something before you go. 

Hesitantly, Derek walked back and stuck out his hand. “Make it quick, I gotta get home.”

“I don’t need your hand,” Stiles said, “I need your lips.” Derek brought his arm back to his side, and suddenly blushed. Yet, there was still an angry look on his face. “I want to give you a kiss, and maybe then you will realize my feelings for you. There’s no other way.”

Derek contemplated the decision inside of his head, but then turned away quickly, refusing to go back, and dashed for the exit, his clothes already tearing as he transformed into a black werewolf. 

 

The night air brushed coldly on the werewolf’s face as it dashed for the forest in back of the hospital, and ran as far as his legs could take him. He was halfway into the forest, breaking down trees, and cutting the branches off with his sharp, razor claws when he let out an enormous, and pained howl. He howled to the moon, for strength. The air passing through the werewolf’s nose was heavy like he had just ran across the world in ten minutes. His red beady eyes examined the forest, turning east and running for home. 

When the Hale house was in sight, Derek ripped out of his werewolf form, stomped up the porch steps and smashed his way into the dark hallway. He walked straight upstairs, cracking each step as he went on. Derek couldn’t help the continuos growls escaping from his chest, and he walked into his bed room, clawing the walls as he went in. 

Derek headed for the closet: there wasn’t much in it but a few tight gray shirts hanging on the right side, a pair of jeans on the top shelf, some sneakers thrown around on the bottom and a couple boxes neatly stacked on the right side. Derek yanked the closet door open, took one step inside and punched the wall once, creating rubble and a large hole. 

Derek stuck his arm into the hole and found a piece of paper on the tips of his finger; he grabbed it out and pushed away the dirt, sinking to the floor when he revealed a school photo of Stiles he had stolen from Stiles’ room the first time they met. Drops of tears fell onto the picture as Derek huddled into the corner of his closet, crying. He cried in the dark, softly, caressing the photo like it was a treasure or a family heirloom. To Derek, it was a treasure. 

Derek placed the photo against his lips, desperately wishing that he was kissing the real thing. 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles had been in the hospital for a straight week, crying and recovering, not only from his head injury but being refused by Derek multiple times. Stiles hadn’t seen Derek the night he asked for a kiss, and thought maybe it was better that they didn’t see anymore of each other. Scott had been to the hospital a couple of times with Allison, but Stiles couldn’t bear the sight of seeing them together. They had what he’d been striving all his life for: a companion, a mate. Stiles would always complain about needing rest, and at that, Scott and Allison said there farewells. 

On Stiles’ first day home, Officer Stilinski cooked the promise food they were supposed to have on the day of the accident: a couple of grilled steaks and baked potatoes. Stiles wasn’t hungry though. In fact, he had refused to eat the hospital food for days, just staring blankly at the white tiled ceiling. 

Although Stiles was alive, he felt lifeless. The demon voice inside of his head never appeared again after the accident, and after his first dinner home(he had only eaten a bite of meat and a glass of orange juice), Stiles headed up for his bed, leaving all the lights off and lying across of it, staring at the ceiling. A light patter of rain broke out against the window, putting Stiles at ease for a moment before he finally closed his tear filled eyes and fell asleep. 

The next day, Stiles’ father drove him in the cruiser to school. His jeep was still in the shop and wouldn’t be ready for weeks because of the engine. When he arrived, everyone treated him like a celebrity, asking questions about the accident and Stiles unwrapped the bandages to show him the long gash on his forehead that people awed over. He was the talk of the town apparently, and even Lydia had given him a hug when Stiles seen her walking down the hallway with Jackson. He on the other hand, just waited by Lydia’s side like a puppy dog, too good to make conversation. He had often scoffed at some points of Lydia and Stiles’ conversation about the Chemistry assignment they had been given when he was in the hospital. They chatted the entire break and Stiles really didn’t know how to feel about the Lydia situation. On one hand, she was pretty and their were still feelings for her, but their were more stronger and deeper feelings he still had for Derek. Derek was all that Stiles could think of. 

School had panned out to be the same for almost a month, and Stiles was still in a depressive state. His father no longer pondered for an answer about his mood swings, assuming that it had something to do with the accident. But it wasn’t. It was all about Derek. And he couldn’t talk to anyone about his feelings, and Stiles sometimes wished he had his demon to talk to. At least with the voice inside of his head, he wasn’t alone. And lately, Stiles had spent most of his time alone, lying in his bed, covered in a shade of darkness. 

The weekend came, and the officer was called in to horde off a gang of delinquents at the mall, leaving Stiles alone in the living room, watching more  _Adventure Time_. The show lifted up his mood, but only for a while. Stiles had contemplated for days to visit Derek but he couldn’t take any more disappointment and rejection. Still, maybe if he were to see Derek it would help with the pain. 

Stiles had nothing to do all day, so he jumped on his bike and took a long ride to the Hale house. It had taken him almost two hours to enter the off road path leading deep into the forest, until stopping at the porch steps. He was wearing just a light shirt and khaki shorts that he found on the bottom of his closet. Stiles walked up to the door but before ringing the doorbell, the front door swung open, and Derek stood there wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants. Even though he still felt anger for Derek, he couldn’t help but hide a small smirk peeking at the tip of his lips. 

“What do you want?” Derek asked, harshly, looking pass Stiles, through him as if he were just a ghost. 

“I ---” Stiles had memorized a speech he was going to use but the words wouldn’t come out. “Can I come in?” Stiles stuttered. 

“No.” Derek said. 

Stiles had anticipated that answer, but hoped that it wasn’t. Stiles had lowered his head, nodding. Even when he knew the outcome: and it wasn’t good, Stiles still made a fool of himself and showed up at his house. 

“Who’s at the door, Derek?” a woman voice came from behind Derek, near the kitchen. Stiles’ head jolted up, and saw the young brunette nurse who had been taking care of him at the hospital. Stiles’ nose flared into a bright pink and his cheeks grew red. He glared at Derek, who had his head down. 

Derek had lied when he called Stiles beautiful. Stiles thought that Derek had the real prize in back of him, and felt repulsed that he wasn’t more good looking. Stiles walked backwards, and when he reached the steps, turned around swiftly, picking up his bike and pedaling home as fast as he could. 

“Stiles!” called Derek, but Stiles was already a mile off, with another accident on his mind. 

Stiles biked out of the forest and onto the road. His vision was blurry because of the tears falling from his eyes. Stiles could hear a horn blaring and hoped that it was one coming towards him, to smash him and kill him on impact. 

Stiles closed his eyes and pedaled faster into the pathway of the speeding car. Then, there was a crash. Stiles felt around for blood, but he was still on his bicycle in an upright position. He opened his eyes and looked into a pair of red eyes. No matter how much strength Derek had then him, Stiles let go of the handlebars and punched Derek repeatedly in the chest. 

“You bastard!” Stiles cried. “I fucking hate you, you mother fucker! Let me go so I can find a car to crash into me.”

Derek picked Stiles up from his bike, and carried him to the car, leaving his bike on the side of the street. Stiles clawed, punched, and slapped his way out, but Derek kept a firm grasp around the young boy. 

“Let me go, you fucking bastard! How could you?!”

When Derek was near his car, he dropped Stiles on his feet and slammed him against the vehicle. He stared into Stiles’ eyes fiercely, gritting his teeth. When Stiles realized, they were both breathing heavily, and although Stiles didn’t have werewolf hearing, he could have sworn that he could hear Derek’s heart beating rapidly in his chest. 

“Listen to me!” Derek yelled; his voice cracked. Stiles stared into his eyes and found that Derek was crying. “I love you, don’t you get it?! I want to be with you but I can’t ---” Derek said strained, “because you’re too good for me, okay? Is that what you want me to confess to stop you from killing yourself? I fucking love you, Stiles but no one is going to approve of our relationship: Scott, your father, society . . . I can’t be with you because once I pick a mate, there is no one that either of us can be with but each other! You don’t deserve me, Stiles! You deserve someone better than me! And I won’t let you give your life to me. I love you too much to do it. And Heather, your nurse! I called her over to check up on your condition! Nothing else!”

Stiles was utterly shocked at what he had heard. Derek --- he loved him, and that was almost enough to get Stiles breathless. It felt like Stiles was going to pass out, and Derek held him up by the waist, closing the gap between them, bringing them chest to chest. 

“If you mean what you said, that you want to be with me,” Derek continued, “then when I kiss you, no one else will be able to kiss your lips, and if they do . . . I would have to kill them. Is that the life that you want, Stiles? To be with me forever, to only love one person for the rest of your life? To be in a relationship with a --- a  _murderer_  for the rest of your life?”

Stiles stared deeply into Derek’s eyes; the both of them were crying.  

“No.” answered Stiles. 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Derek was at a lost for words, and out of all the punches Stiles gave, it didn’t hurt as much as having Stiles finally admit that he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with him. Derek always knew that Stiles wouldn’t want to be with him. Why would he? It’s not like he ever did him a favor or had a heartfelt conversation with him about his conflicting emotions. 

Since day one, Derek had fallen in love with Stiles but having Stiles make a decision of spending the rest of his life with him, and whoever got in the way would be killed, was much more than anyone could handle. Derek was to spend all his days alone, and he suddenly realized how Stiles felt all those nights ago when Derek abandoned him in the emergency room. But why would Stiles beg Derek for a chance, and at Derek’s offer, Stiles suddenly refused? All Derek knew was that his eyes were bloody red, and he wanted to kill someone to ease the tension of his anger. His sharp teeth were gritted, and Derek went to run away when Stiles tugged the front of his shirt. 

Derek was breathing heavily, and his anger was about to burst at any moment. How could he have been so dumb to express his secret emotions? Isn’t that why from the time they met, Derek forced himself to be a bad tempered alpha, just so he wouldn’t attract Stiles to him. But in actuality, it attracted the young boy even more? Stiles tugged onto the bottom of Derek’s shirt, stopping him and wiped away the tears with his free hands. 

“No, I will not spend the rest of my life with a murderer,” Stiles choked out, fighting Derek who grew even furious at the words. “It’s because you’re not a murderer nor will you ever be. Derek . . . I loved you since day one too. And I will love you forever, through death, the afterlife and the other life after the afterlife because I want you.”

Anger on Derek’s face had vanished and his cheeks rose a high shade of rosy pink. He smiled larger than he ever had in his life, and picked up Stiles by the waist and carried him in the air. Derek slowly brought Stiles back down, face to face, and Stiles was still airborne, he carried him for his lips, but stopped just before the final seal. 

“Are you sure about this?” Derek asked. 

“I’m ---.” But Derek had kissed him before Stiles could respond. Derek kissed Stiles’ lip tenderly, infusing their saliva with one another, and even Stiles slid his curious tongue into Derek’s hot mouth which made the alpha grin. Derek hugged Stiles against him, and kissed him harder, holding onto the back of Stiles’ neck so he couldn’t go anywhere. The scent, the taste, the tongue action . . . Derek was completely mesmerized. After all, this was his first kiss. He always dreamed  what it would be like and couldn’t imagine it would have been this amazing. 

“I had to kiss you before you changed your mind,” Derek grinned.

“Derek,” Stiles whimpered, breaking the kiss, but breathing heavily against the alpha’s flushed face, “I want you to have me, more than a kiss.”

And Derek understood full heartedly what Stiles meant; his eyes opened wide and so did his smile. Derek slid Stiles into the passenger seat on the driver’s side and started the car, speeding quickly down the empty road. 

Stiles whimpered uncontrollably, feeling the arousal of what was about to happen which elicited an even whinier growl from Derek, who clutched onto the steering wheel like he had been holding onto life itself. Stiles couldn’t help the feeling growing inside of him and sundered towards Derek, licking his neck up to his ear. As controlled as Derek seemed to be, he shook under Stiles’ touch and veered off the road a few times during the process. Stiles’ hand trailed from the side of Derek’s cheek to the underneath of his shirt and to the top of Derek’s jeans. Stiles tugged at the jeans and bit at the core of Derek’s throat where he could feel the vibrations echoing inside of Derek’s body. 

“Ungh,” Stiles moaned, rubbing the outline of Derek’s hardening shaft in his jeans, and Derek closed his eyes, forgetting about the road.

“You’re gonna get us both killed,” Derek moaned. 

Stiles smiled, then tucked one leg on the side of Derek’s thigh, and another leg on the other, blocking Derek from seeing the road. Stiles slid up and down on Derek’s lap, and that was the triggering point. 

Derek clung on to Stiles as he pushed on the break, making a loud scratching sound before Derek shoved the gearshift into park. 

“You asked for it,” the alpha growled. He ripped Stiles’ shirt in half and grabbed the bare of his back, bringing Stiles’ light pink nipple to the core of his mouth where he sucked on them, and moved up to the side of Stiles’ neck where he gently grazed his teeth along the boy’s skin. Derek whined as he licked the healing bruise on Stiles’ neck, then trailing his tongue up towards Stiles’ lips. Stiles slid his tongue back into Derek’s warm mouth, and Derek sucked on it, his erection growing harder in his pants. Derek was stiff; he ripped Stiles’ shorts down the middle, and chuckled underneath his breath when he saw Stiles wearing Batman underwear; hiding Stiles’ hard on. 

“Don’t pretend that you don’t like it,” said Stiles. He grounded his hips on Derek’s stiffened member, feeling the thickness of it through Derek’s pants and the thin layer of his underwear. 

Stiles leaned to Derek’s ear. “Excuse me sir, do you mind giving me a ride?” Stiles whispered, licking the tip of Derek’s earlobe. Derek grabbed two handfuls of Stiles’ ass and brought it down to his hard on, moving Stiles in a stroking motion on his cock. 

Neither of them could take it anymore. Stiles’ hands went down to Derek’s jeans and unbuttoned them; Derek squirmed out of his jeans, bringing them down to his knees. Again, Stiles sat on Derek’s lap but jumped when he had felt the thickness of Derek’s dick next to the opening of his ass. 

“Uh-uh,” Derek said, bringing Stiles back on to his thick, hard cock. Stiles couldn’t believe how big Derek was. “You asked for a ride, and well damn --- I’m about to give you the ride of your life.”

Stiles watched as Derek finally slipped off his boxers, and Stiles whimpered as Derek teasingly rubbed it against Stiles’ underwear. Derek slid off the last piece of clothing on Stiles and they both looked into each others eyes. Derek smiled before covering his mouth, spitting in his hand to lubricate his cock, then grabbed Stiles’ tight waist and led him onto his pole. Stiles held onto Derek’s shoulders, restraining himself from going further. He did the dimensions inside of his head --- there was no way that Derek was going to fit inside of him. 

Derek gave a low growl, persistent on taking Stiles the entire way. Stiles tested the water and slid down until Derek was knocking on his back door. Stiles closed his eyes tightly, ashamed of admitting his virgin status, in any type of position. The both of them grew sweaty, and like a champ Stiles tried to inch further down. He had gotten an inch in when he squealed. The noise made Derek growl even louder, there was no doubt that he didn’t want nothing more but to penetrate Stiles. Derek crashed his lips against Stiles, sliding him down more, slyly. Stiles stopped him, again. Derek wasn’t even half way in. 

“You couldn’t warn me about your enormous hidden bat?” Stiles joked, leaning onto Derek’s torso, his head drooped to the side of Derek’s cheek. Stiles wasn’t looking at him, but could feel Derek grinning, widely. Then, without warning, Derek slammed deep into Stiles, his pelvic hitting the boy’s sweet ass.

“Oh fuck ---” Stiles’ moaned, biting the side of Derek’s neck, while Derek let out a ripping growl and slammed Stiles repeatedly and rapidly on his throbbing cock. For Stiles, the pain lasted for a couple of minutes, but as he got used to Derek fucking him, the pain never felt so good. 

“Fuck me harder, you big bad wolf,” said Stiles, licking the beads of sweat on Derek’s face and neck. Derek’s sweat tasted sweet like he was made of candy. With Stiles on top, Derek pulled on the car seat lever, reclining the seat to its furthest limit. Derek pulled out his dick and forced Stiles stomach first into the reclined chair. Stiles grew even hotter from the roughness, and waited until Derek grabbed his neck, arching his back until his ass was sticking out, and Derek was right next to him, his dick ready to be dipped in, again. 

The two of them kissed, and Derek used the tender moment to shove his dick back into Stiles ass, again, and Stiles bit the bottom of Derek’s bottom lip. Stiles whimpered and Derek fucked him harder. 

“You feel so damn good, kid.” Derek thrusted inside of Stiles, slid all the way out, and shoved himself back in. This made Stiles shut his eyes, coping with the passionate pain. Stiles was burning all over and had grown red in places where he never thought imaginable. 

“Derek --- tell me that you love me . . .” The alpha leaned his stomach against Stiles’ back. Derek was close to coming; Stiles was so tight. Smashed together, Stiles could hear an echoing growl in Derek’s stomach and knew fully well that Derek was seconds from exploding. So was he. 

While Derek rammed himself inside of Stiles, Stiles used a free hand to satisfy his urge, building inside of his pelvis, down to the gearshift he held cupped in his hands. 

“Say it, Derek. Say it.” 

Derek heaved his hips against Stiles’ ass the deepest he could, and Stiles could feel Derek unloading what seemed like gallons of his man juice. This got Stiles so hot, that at the same moment Derek was coming, and convulsing against his bare back, Stiles shot out come all over the seat, and it even reached the back seat. Both of them flopped on the sticky chair, and Derek softening inside of Stiles. 

“I love you,” Derek breathed against Stiles’ ear; the both of them having an entire life together, to do this all, again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote a sequel to this called "Mark of the Demon" but for the life of me, I can't find it on my computer or find my USB. Which is really lame because there were a lot of good stories I could've used to posted. It would be a real b**** to write it again, and not have it be as good as the first one.


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